As Feathers Fall by Chris Galford

Author:Chris Galford [Galford, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Series, Fiction
Publisher: Chris Galford
Published: 2015-03-20T04:00:00+00:00

Morning was the sound of one man slapping another, a sound like dying fish flopping on the shore. He rolled out of his tent in time to watch his bunkmates careen to the earth, ostensibly about money owed. Isaak stretched long, but gently, as gently pilfered the coins one of them had left lying about—they would, no doubt, blame the other—and started anew for the smithy. It seemed as good a place to start the day as any.

He was met half-way there by a small band headed in the opposite direction, and he almost kept walking even as they turned. One shouted, apparently only belatedly recognizing him, and he turned, certain to make puzzlement his defining feature.

“Cap’n wants another word, sellsword.”

He cast an appraising eye over the thugs before him. There were only three of them, but they were dressed to the part, with weapons close at hand. Few around them seemed otherwise perturbed, meaning whatever it was about, it wasn’t dramatic enough to provoke interest. Best bets lay on acquiescing, and so he did, following them back to their master.

Though he had expected the tent, it became quickly apparent they were actually headed away from camp, rather than deeper into it. At the lowest point of the camp’s crescent, Berric stood with just two other men, surveying the now barren landscape before them. A quick glance of the ground suggested wheel tracks and a quick march of feet and hooves—likely a consequence of a fire burning out of control. It turned on its masters as readily as anyone.

Berric beckoned him in readily enough, saying, “Morning, boyo. Not quite up to your arse in it yet, are you?”

“Is that about to change?”

For a moment, the captain looked startled. Then he grinned. Then he began to laugh. It was a quick, high thing, but pure, not mocking—he threw out an arm and ushered him into what was apparently an impromptu council meeting. The other pair there were not nobility. That much was plain. The one struck him as a one-armed statue—lean as a mule and probably half again as stubborn, if the looks he turned on Isaak were any indication. The other was little more than stubble of beard and a hooked nose squeezed into maille.

“If it did, I’m quite certain you’d simply strike your banners.” Berric smiled, but there was no mirth in it. “At least, that’s what Orif would do, if he’s not too busy plotting vengeance on little girls.”

There was an animosity there that had not been before. Isaak shuffled, cast his eyes to the floor—he tried to look as properly chastened as possible. Then a hand reached up and patted his shoulder. “There, there, lad. Just because your captain’s a cunt doesn’t mean you are” A troublesome sparkle lit his eyes, but the captain turned then, back to the woods.

“Captain Vogel here’s been given the main, while I seem to have been given the van.” He started to say something else, paused, and twisted on the one-armed man.

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